


Optimum Ocular Refraction Algorithm

by blythechild



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Experimentation, M/M, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock requires John to participate in an experiment. With a tiara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Optimum Ocular Refraction Algorithm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Draycevixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/gifts).



> This drabble is a gift to draycevixen based on her prompt.
> 
> No warnings apply. This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal entertainment.

_**John, I need you  
\- SH** _

“Really, Sherlock?” John strolled into the sitting room staring at his mobile in disbelief. “A text? I was in the kitchen.”

“Yelling would’ve suggested alarm, and while my need is urgent, it isn’t something to panic over.”

Sherlock was standing before one of the sitting room windows overlooking Baker Street. He didn’t appear to be in need of anything, which was part of the problem with him, and why John had been in the kitchen fixing their tea. John huffed in frustration and pocketed his mobile.

“What is it?”

“Come here.”

John came to stand next to Sherlock at the window. Taxis and pedestrians went about their day below them but Sherlock was looking up at the rooflines across the way. He suddenly grabbed John by the shoulders and manhandled him into place in front of the window. He spun John to face into the flat.

“Oi! Careful!”

Sherlock gave John a withering look, readjusted him as he wanted before the window, and then got to his point.

“Put this on.”

“What… _that_? You’re kidding.”

“When have you ever known me to ‘kid’.”

“No, of course… what was I thinking? Kidding implies a sense of humor.”

“How droll. Now, put this on.”

“Why?”

“I’m testing a theory.”

“A theory involving your flat mate dressed in a tiara? Sorry, I’m going to need a little more on this one.”

Sherlock sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really John, must I explain _everything_ about my process to you? In the time it takes to elucidate the details, I could be analyzing my findings from the experiment. Could you not just take it on faith if your intellect isn’t up to the task of figuring out my purpose for itself?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” 

Sherlock stared at John again, and then gently placed the tiara on John’s head.

“This is embarrassing.”

“Nonsense. You’ve worn hats of your own volition before. This is no different.” Sherlock reverently readjusted the tiara.

“This is completely different! I would’ve thought that you could understand after the dreaded Deerstalker incident…”

“I personally object to hats because they do not suit me. Especially a headpiece so confused about its design that it tries to be both a head _and_ ear warmer.”

Sherlock reached for John again just as Mrs. Hudson wandered up the stairs and into the sitting room.

“I’ve just bought some lovely hot cross buns, boys, would you like some with your… oh!” She looked up and then looked away. “So sorry to intrude… really. I’ll just save you a few, shall I? You really should consider putting a tie on the door handle or something when… you know… Mr. Hudson said he used to do that at uni. Should’ve considered that when he was at his secretary, but that’s neither here or there right now…”

“Mrs. Hudson, we’re right in the middle of something just now. We’ll come down for tea later.” Sherlock was uncharacteristically warm towards her.

“It’s not… _we’re_ not…” John stuttered.

“Okay boys, you carry on then. You know I don’t judge. The heart wants what the heart wants.” She smiled, her matchmaker’s eyes twinkling. “Come down when you’re ready. Oh, John… I must say that the tiara really brings out your eyes, dear.”

With a giggle and a wink, Mrs. Hudson disappeared. John ripped the tiara off his head and turned on Sherlock.

“You did that on purpose!”

“No, but I’m always surprised by how much another’s suggestion that we are lovers disturbs you. You’d think that having a lesbian sister would help you work out that latent homophobia…”

“I AM NOT A HOMOPHOBE.”

“Well, it’s not out of concern for my reputation; you are well aware that I am indifferent to slanders about my sexual orientation. So, it must be about you, John. Have you linked homosexuality to failure and alcoholism because of Harriet? Because, I can assure you that although they aren’t mutually exclusive, one does not automatically imply the other. You aren’t an alcoholic by any stretch.”

“Shut it, Sherlock! Just… I’m not a homophobe and I’m not gay. I love my sister and, yes, I care about how people see me. This persistent belief… makes me angry!”

“Yes, I can see that.” Sherlock murmured as he stared at John again.

The pair stood a few moments in silence, Sherlock staring and John feeling increasingly foolish. John broke eye contact first and looked at the floor before him.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “It’s not like I object to being paired off with you, or anything…”

“Of course not. It’s extremely flattering to you; I’m out of your league.”

John’s face shot up from its consideration of the floorboards. Sherlock was looking at the Baker Street roofline again with interest.

“Besides, you aren’t my type.”

John opened his mouth to offer something scathing but found his wits wanting. He shifted his weight from one foot to another as his emotions rose to his face once again. His mouth continued to open and close uselessly, until he finally raised the tiara clutched in his hand and waved it in Sherlock’s direction.

“Right. Well, what’s doing with this then?”

“Yes. Put that on and stand as you were before the window. I’ll be back.”

“Back? Where are you going?”

“Across the street to see if I can accurately bounce a high powered laser off the central facet of the crown setting to burn a hole through your skull in the precise location of the left frontal lobe to eradicate learned moral objectioning.”

“WHAT?! You’re going to give me a lobotomy from 200 feet away? And you weren’t going to tell me?!”

“I just told you.” Sherlock responded innocently. “And, no, I’m not going to burn out that actual section of your brain. Just the hair that covers it maybe… I need physical proof that it can be done.”

“BOLLOCKS TO THAT, SHERLOCK!”

“And here we are back to your lack of faith in me due to your own limited intellect. This conversation is circling and your reaction is becoming tedious.”

“You couldn’t find the location of learned moral objectioning if someone drew you a map, Sherlock!” John leaned up and into Sherlock’s face, his eyes glittering with rage. “You need me because you don’t have that learned skill yourself!”

“You’re ridiculous, John. How could I _possibly_ be both the test subject and the shooter at the same time? And I don’t need you - I can make do with a dressmaker’s dummy. And with considerably less annoying exposition to boot.”

Sherlock stared at John for a long instant and then dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“Go and be elsewhere, John. You are useless to me in every respect until your reason can regain control over your emotions.”

John glared and then stomped out of the sitting room. Sherlock listened to his worn army boots thump down the stairs, the front door slamming behind him. Sherlock didn’t turn, but knew that John had turned left on Baker Street to head toward the Nag’s Head pub. He would give John approximately 200 minutes to sulk before he joined him to discuss the results of his tiara experiment. It was a _real_ experiment for a _real_ , paying client after all.

It just wasn’t the experiment that he was currently conducting.

Mrs. Hudson was wrong: the silly semi-precious crown did absolutely nothing appreciable to John’s ocular refraction. Anger, on the other hand, had a very real impact on the aesthetic charms of John’s eyes. They did appear to _glitter_ in a very real sense to Sherlock when properly stimulated. Still… singular observations were insufficient to prove his theory. He needed to duplicate his results under varied circumstances. If possible, he should try to record the results for further analysis.

_Promising initial evidence. Subject requires additional trials. Further study of phenomenon suggested._


End file.
